


How lucky the lover of the heart

by olympia_m



Series: Between two places [13]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: M/M, Mentioned violence, depressed characters, even though it doesn't look it all the time, it is a comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: Where Oriya and Feilong talk (as they usually do)





	How lucky the lover of the heart

His life was nothing but a series of compromises. Learning to play the shamisen so he could learn how to fight with a sword. Agreeing to take on the family business so he could study in college. Accepting Ukyou so he could keep Muraki. Letting his father humiliate him for what? 

Feilong at least kept quiet, exactly as they had agreed. In fact, he pretended that Oriya wasn’t even there, staring resolutely out of the window. 

“To Misuji-no-Taki,” Oriya told Ishikawa. 

“Yes, Young Master.”

Oriya looked outside, frowning. He wasn’t young, and he was no one’s master, as his father kept making very clear to him. Two minutes later Ishikawa started fidgeting. “What is it?”

“Can I put some music on?”

He nodded. His father wouldn’t have allowed it, so he had to. Even though Ishikawa’s taste left much to be desired. At the first sound of a bouncy beat, Feilong cringed. When a girl started singing in a high-pitched voice, he even groaned. 

Oriya smiled. 

“It’s horrible,” Feilong mouthed, glancing at him, forgetting that they were not speaking until they were somewhere else. 

“At least it’s happy,” Oriya told him, trying to find something positive about that annoying pop confection. He didn't know any happy songs.

Feilong rolled his eyes. “It’s disturbing.”

Oriya shrugged. He’d rather listen to Ishikawa’s dreadful pop than the silence. “Muraki’s been educating me,” he said. “Trust me, his pop is better than what I would choose.”

“Yes? What would you choose?”

“Armenian laments.”

Feilong raised an eyebrow. “Life’s too short for laments,” he said after a moment.

“Yours, maybe. You wear death so lightly.”

“Almost as lightly as your friend?”

“You know about Muraki?”

Feilong nodded. “Seeing him made me understand how you could be so indifferent towards my line of business. I would come and tell you I killed people and you’d sit there, making me tea as if we were discussing the weather. I wondered if you were mad, but not anymore. You’ve been desensitized thanks to Muraki.”

“He is so indiscreet,” he sighed.

Feilong turned towards him. “Oriya.”

“Not now.”

“Why not now? You want to wallow in misery, fine, but not when I’m here.”

“I have a headache, that’s why not now.”

“No, you don’t.”

Oriya glared at him. “I almost have a headache.”

Feilong smirked. “Look. What happened…”

Oriya shook his head. “No.”

“Yes. It’s kind of funny, when you think about it. There I was, worried a little that someone might try to attack you to get to me, and in the end your father used me to get to you.” Feilong smiled gently. “It is funny.”

“No, it's not. You’ve been hurt, Takaba has been hurt, three people are dead, just so he could bring me to heel. To do what? To go back to ‘my playhouse’? It’s not funny at all. I knew my place, damn it. I didn’t need a reminder.” Oriya hit his hand on the window.

“Why don’t you leave?” Feilong glanced at Ishikawa, and then probably decided he didn’t care if he listened or not. “Do you need the power so much? You can come work for me. Or not. Just come with me, and do whatever you want.”

“Be your kept man?”

Feilong snorted. “As if. You’ll find something to keep you busy soon enough. But that could also work,” he smiled lasciviously. “I’d finally fulfill my fantasy of tying you in bed. Making you wear my collar. Maybe even make you a permanent one, of gold, or silver.”

“Who can resist you when you speak so charmingly?” He snorted. As if he wasn’t tied enough already. 

“Just think about it. You, me, Hong Kong. No more creepy clients. No more whores that need protecting. No more crazy, murdering friends. Well. Not crazy, anyway,” he grinned.

Oriya smiled. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“What’s stopping you? I could use someone to make me tea while I manage my business.”

“You have Tao for that.”

“His tea cannot compare to yours.”

“I should hope so,” Oriya said in mock indignation. He slumped further in his seat. “You know I can’t.”

“Because this is your family business?” Feilong sighed. “I understand about familial obligations. But maybe it is time you stepped down. You don’t want it, and your father only wants you to run things because he knows you hate it.”

“No, he wants me to do it because that’s tradition. And I can’t step down because I pledged my life to the House. And my House accepted it.”

“I’ll pretend I understand what that means.”

“It means exactly what I said: I can’t leave Kokakurou. I must serve it.”

“You mean that.” Feilong sighed. “That’s sad.”

“I think you would be better off without me.”

“That’s not your decision to make. I told you that earlier.”

“It’s for the best, though. I can’t even protect you from my father.”

“You protect me from loneliness,” Feilong said softly, reaching for Oriya’s hand. “You make me tea when others would leave me alone. You fuck me like you love me.”

Oriya looked at him, feeling hurt. “I do love you,” he whispered.

“You never say it, though. Not that I care,” Feilong added quickly. 

“Oh.”

“I don’t say it either, do I?” Feilong smiled wryly. “Perhaps we deserve each other?” His expression was soft, his voice tentative.

Oriya frowned. Perhaps, but it was a stupid idea. The whole thing had been stupid from the start, and he’d been a fool to believe that he could have something good, something decent, something…. 

“Come on, Young Master, don’t make the poor man wait any longer,” Ishikawa shouted.

Feilong stifled his laughter. “Well, Young Master?”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned. “I’m old.”

“But hot,” Feilong replied. 

Ishikawa nodded. 

“Not you too,” Oriya muttered, letting his hair fall over his face, and hiding it behind his hands just because he could. 

Feilong sighed. “If you don’t want me, fine. I won’t beg. Just take me back to Osaka, so I can take a plane back. But if you do, and you think you can make my decisions for me, then take me to Kokakurou. Because this is not a decision I’m making.”

Oriya hugged himself. “You heard Liu-sama, Ishikawa. To Kokakurou.” A moment later he felt Feilong squeeze his hand. He dared look at him. How beautiful he looked when he was happy. Did he have the right to drag him into the prison that awaited him? 

“You’re thinking miserable thoughts again,” Feilong said smiling. “Forget them. I will cast you aside when I’m done with you. Or you will when you are done with me. But that time is not now.”

Oriya could only nod. The dragon had him firmly in his grasp, and it seemed like he was collared even when he had no marks on him, but he didn’t mind. He was scared. 

Feilong untied his seat belt and slid across the seat next to him. Then he tied the belt for the seat next to Oriya's and hugged him. “You look so miserable, it’s hilarious,” he said, laughing. “As if you didn’t just admit to loving me.” Feilong kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “As if you don’t know that I love you too.” 

“I’m not a good person. I’m not even a very capable one. My father…”

“Your father is not your enemy; how can you fight him? Or protect me from something that you couldn’t anticipate? I was with two of my men and they were useless in protecting me or stopping the attack on my car. Do I accept responsibility that they’re dead because of me? Yes. Do I feel bad about it? Yes. Do I wish I could have done something else? No, because what happened, happened, and there was no way of predicting it.” Feilong shrugged. “Life can be simple.” He laughed again. “And I can’t believe that I’m turning out the mature one in this relationship.”

“Or at least the non-depressive one,” Oriya whispered.

“Maybe you should see a therapist.”

“And give my father another reason for calling me an unnatural monster?”

Feilong snorted. “Your father is a piece of work.”

“In the Old Master’s defence,” Ishikawa said, lowering the volume, “he only calls the Young Master that when the Young Master is being particularly annoying.”

“Like when?” Oriya said, frowning.

“Like when the Young Master sends New Year cards to everyone except the Old Master? Or when the Young Master neglects to wish the Old Master ‘happy birthday’ or send him a gift? Or whenever the Old Master is in surgery or ill, and the Young Master refuses to even wish him ‘speedy recovery’ himself, and makes us relay his message?”

Feilong elbowed Oriya. “That is cruel, Young Master.”

“He hates me,” Oriya whined. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Ishikawa said, staring at Oriya from the mirror. “My father had told me that a boy becomes a man when he beats his father at something. When did the Young Master defeat Old Master for the first time?”

Oriya snorted. “Don’t know. Kendo? When I was fourteen? Aikido? Two years later? When I started turning more of a profit running Kokakurou than he ever did?”

“I think Young Master is a mystery to Old Master.”

“Family members are usually a mystery to each other,” Feilong said with a smirk. “I had no idea what an asshole my brother was for the longest time, or that my father loved me.” 

“If the Young Master made more of an effort to approach Old Master, then maybe Old Master wouldn’t be on the defensive.”

Oriya didn’t remind Ishikawa of all the times his father had insulted him. “On the defensive? He attacked my friends.”

“In his defense, if Young Master had introduced Liu-sama when Old Master had first asked about him, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Now you tell me? Better yet, why didn’t he tell me?” Feilong elbowed him again. “Oh, yes, he did send a message, and I refused to reply.”

Feilong shook his head. “Your father won’t live forever. Maybe you should make an effort...”

“No.”

Both Ishikawa and Feilong looked at him disappointed.

“I’ll think about it. But not now. Right now I want to go back, tear his eyes out, feed them to him, and then burn the house down.”

“Even if you did want to go back, I wouldn’t take you,” Ishikawa said. “Not after what Young Master said.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Oriya huffed. “I just want to.”

“If my wrist wasn’t sprained, I’d play with you. Ishikawa, do you have to go back immediately afterwards?”

“No, Liu-sama. Why?”

“How good are you with a sword? Good enough to help our dear, Young Master burn some energy?”

Ishikawa frowned. “Erm… I’m not sure.”

“Doesn’t matter; you will do, if I can’t find someone else,” Feilong told him. 

“Perhaps I want to have a long bath when I go home.”

“No, you’ll play with your sword first, and I’ll enjoy the sight,” Feilong winked. “Don’t grumble, we both know it will do you good.” Feilong settled against him. “Wake me up when we’re there. I can’t believe I’m the adult here,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

Oriya started petting Feilong’s hair. Stroking that heavy silk was far too relaxing. He felt like dozing off himself. 

Ishikawa smiled at them. He even turned off that horrible pop for their sake.


End file.
